The Shadowy Horses

David looked at me. "Whose mother?"

"Yours. We forgot all about her. She'll still be waiting for us to come and fetch her at the cottage, won't she?"

"Aye, well," David shrugged, "I can't do much of anything until Jeannie and Brian come back—I've no car."

Peter eyed him thoughtfully. "I really think, my boy, it might be best to let someone else collect your mother. You've had bad luck with borrowed cars, today."

David raised his drink defensively. "It wasn't me that wrapped the Jaguar around a fence post.''

"No, but it was your fault Verity drove out there in the first place," Peter pointed out, smoothly logical. "So you see ..."

Robbie interrupted, twisting to look up at David's face. "You didn't take the necklace," he said, as if that explained everything. "You were supposed to wear it, like."

Besieged on all sides, David drank his whiskey with a faint smile. "Aye, well, next time we're talking to your Sentinel, Robbie, you mind me to tell him why no self-respecting archaeologist wears artifacts."

"Why?" Robbie asked.

Peter explained. "Because we'd damage them. We shouldn't dig things up at all, unless we can take care of them." He was silent a moment, mulling something over. "Can he really hear us, when we speak? The Sentinel, I mean."

Robbie nodded. "He can see you and all. Only you've got to speak Latin, or he doesn't ken what you're saying. / can say 'hello'," he announced proudly.

"Well done," said Peter vaguely, deep in thought. The crunch of tires on the gravel roused him, and he raised his head expectantly. "Ah, here are Jeannie and Brian now."

Jeannie looked relieved to have the whole thing over with. "It wasn't so bad," she said. "It was just an identification, like."

"It did take us a while, though," Brian admitted. "Just to be sure, with the bandages and all. What the devil did your mother hit him with, anyway?"

"Teapot," said David. "Her famous tin teapot"

Peter smiled, faintly. "And I rather suspect it was full at the time."

Brian winced. "Bloody hell!"

"Will they have enough," asked Adrian, "to make the charges stick?"

"Oh, aye," Brian nodded.

"What makes you so certain?"

"Well, for one thing," said Brian, leaning back with a thoughtful expression, "the police are going to find Mick's caravan is filled near to bursting with black market vodka and fags."

David looked at him. "Brian, you didn't"

"I did. He's a right sodding bastard, and he needs to get more than your mother's blinking teapot in his eye."

Peter stopped swirling the vodka in his glass, and glanced at Jeannie, suddenly remembering. “I do hale to ask you this, my dear, because I know you've just got back, but would you mind very much driving over to fetch Nancy?"

"Of course, not." Picking up the car keys, she held out her free hand.”Come on, Robbie, let's go get Granny Nan."

"And don't take her to Saltgreens. You're to bring her back here," Peter said. "For dinner. It's high time she had a look at what we've been up to."

So much for Peter remaining predictable, I thought Even Jeannie stared at him for a long moment, and her slowly spreading smile was beautiful. "Aye," she said, "I think you're right."

"Any chance of a lift into town?" Adrian asked, rising with a self-indulgent stretch. "I have a dinner dale myself, as I recall, with a rather smashing redhead."

I sent him a mildly suspicious glance. "One of my finds assistants is a redhead."

"Is she? What a coincidence."

"Hmm. Just see that she's not late for work in the morning, will you?”

“My dear girl," he asked me, "do I look like the sort of person who'd corrupt an innocent student?"

None of us answered him, but his words set Peter off on a new train of thought. "The students," he mused. "I must go and check on them, see that they're comfortable. I don't believe we'll have the tents set up again before tomorrow, but—"

"Aye, well," said David, stretching himself, "maybe Wally and I can go down now and take a look around at the damage."

Brian went with them. Which left only me, sitting there with the cats, in no hurry to do much of anything.

It was the telephone, jangling in the front hall, that finally got me off the sofa. With a sigh, I lifted the receiver, wishing the thing could have stayed out of order till dinnertime, at least.

"Verity?" A voice I knew. "It's Howard. You're not an easy woman to get hold of, are you? I've been trying for days," he complained. "Your sister thinks I'm some sort of maniac, you know."

I smiled. "Yes, well. She's a bit protective, is Alison."

"Protective," Howard said, "is not the word. I'd rattier face a Rottweiler."

"She did tell me you'd called," I defended my sister.

"Well, I should hope so. I told her it was damned important."

"What was?"

"I've been feeling like an idiot all week."

"Howard..." I warned him.

"What? Oh, sorry. I'll get to the point. Do you remember those photographs you sent me a while back—the Samian sherds?"